


When the Sun Goes Down

by Vagrant_Blvrd



Series: Kings of Nowhere [42]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe- GTA V, Fake AH Crew, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-27
Updated: 2018-11-27
Packaged: 2019-09-01 07:29:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16760698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vagrant_Blvrd/pseuds/Vagrant_Blvrd
Summary: Ryan's running, blood on his face, cold air in his lungs and bodies behind him. Snow almost reaching his knees slowing him down just enough that he knows there's no happy ending in his future. (There never was going to be one for him though, was there?)





	When the Sun Goes Down

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt fill for Anon who asked for Freewood FAHC AU with the crew bailing Ryan out of trouble.

Ryan's running, blood on his face, cold air in his lungs and bodies behind him. Snow almost reaching his knees slowing him down just enough that he knows there's no happy ending in his future. (There never was going to be one for him though, was there?)

Loud, angry, coming for the man who came for them years ago. Black skull mask and leather jacket and a legend in the city of Los Santos these days.

(You see him, you go the other way. He sees you, you're gonna have a bad day.)

But that man's a legend – untouchable – and Ryan is just the flesh and bone human who plays the part. 

Not well enough these days it seems, because the rumors that say he's gotten soft, complacent, running with a crew seem to hold some truth to them. That he’s allowed himself to become weak over a bunch of idiots – misfits who fit together in ways they shouldn't - and Christ, he's glad they're not here for this.

(Ghosts that won't stay buried and Ryan did a bad job of it back then. Left some of them alive because he was younger and stupider and didn't think it would catch up to him.)

He's running as fast as he can but his ribs are a mess, left knee a solid mass of pain and bound to give out on him soon. No real idea where he’s headed as long as it’s away from his pursuers, stubborn refusal to let them be the ones to kill him when no one else has succeeded.

A gunshot rings out, so close he imagines he can hear Geoff's voice in his head shrieking _serpentine you stupid fuck, fucking_ serpentine _goddammit_ and zigs to the right. 

Runs another few feet and the ground goes out from under him, bullet whistling past his head as he tumbles down an embankment. Lands in a broken sprawl, pain flaring in his side, knee screaming in agony.

Pain's an old familiar companion at this point, and Ryan struggles to get up, but his knee refuses to support his weight.

Looks up at a triumphant yell, and sees one of his pursuers pointing at lights in the distance. Catches the faint sound of an approaching chopper.. The rest of their crew flying in to investigate after Ryan got loose, took down some of these bastards before the rest ran him down.

“This is it, Vagabond!” the ringleader yells, so damn cocky now that they have the upper hand.

Ryan snarls, forces himself to stand because the Vagabond's a legend – untouchable - 

One of the bastards at the top of the embankment aims at him, and Ryan smiles because you go down, you go down laughing at the whole damn world who thought it finally won. 

“Any last words?”

So goddamned predictable.

Ryan tips his head up, laughter building in his chest because people like these idiots don’t get it even after Ryan broke them down years ago. Can’t comprehend the fact they’re going to run into someone bigger, better than them. That they’re going to have days like this one, when when your luck runs out and everything you've fought your whole life for doesn't mean a goddamn thing. (Think it’s just a setback, and revenge is going to be enough.)

He’s miles from home and no one's going to know, but that's how it goes sometimes, isn't it?

Flat crack of rifle, sound he'd know anywhere. (Heavy sniper with a suppressor, banged up a bit and getting a little long in the tooth but the man behind the scope's a steady hand and Ryan's luckier than he should be.)

Ryan watches one of the thugs go down in a spray of blood. Like an echo another shot sounds (different gun, two snipers), and hi friend catches a bullet in the chest, too slow to process what’s happening, and then it’s Ryan and the ringleader. 

The first sniper fires off another round, kicking up snow in front of the ringleader who stumbles back, head snapping up to stare at the chopper in stunned realization.

Sees it coming he tracks the red dot off a sight as it comes to rest right over the fucker's heart.

A beat, two, and the sniper fires.

The ringleader's gun slips from his fingers as he topples backward.

Ryan stares for a moment, and then turns to watch the chopper approaching, downdraft off its blades blowing snow up.

Touches down light as a feather, and he sees the sniper turning to hand his weapon off to someone inside the chopper before hopping out and running towards him.

Ratty old hoodie, worn jeans. Probably wearing those sneakers with the soles coming free, impractical as all hell out here in the snow like this.

The last time Ryan saw him he was holed up in his little lair, mind focused on a project Geoff had handed him. Single-minded focus and distracted responses to Ryan’s questions as he chipped away at some new problem or other.

Gavin drops next to him, hands on his shoulders and concern in his eyes as he looks Ryan over.

Idiot's going to freeze out here. 

Winter in Los Santos isn't much to look at. The only real signs are a slight drop in temperature and the shift in the angle of the sun. A morning or two where you get a hint of frost on the ground, more rain and overcast days.

But you go outside the city, head up into the mountains and you run into this. Snow up to your calves and stray dogs who think they're enough like wolves to run in packs out here and no idea how wrong they are.

“Hi Gavin,” Ryan says, tired and so goddamned done with everything it's not funny, just wants to get the hell out of here, go _home_.

Gavin's eyes narrow, but he sighs, lets Ryan have this for the moment.

“Hi, Ryan.” 

Gavin gets him up on his feet, helps support his weight as they make their way to the chopper and Michael hops out to help. Jeremy flashes him a relieved smile as he goes to check the ringleader and his men are dead, keeping watch as they get Ryan into the chopper.

Michael’s scowling, worry born of anger as he gets a blanket around Ryan’s shoulders and then moves up to the co-pilot seat beside Jack. Jeremy comes back and neatly sandwiches Ryan between him and Gavin, grin on his face that says he’d just love it if Ryan has anything to say about the seating arrangements, and Ryan wisely says nothing.

Another chopper flies by overhead, and Jeremy says something about B-Team and cleanup as he and Gavin pick up their sniper rifles for the flight back. (Paranoid bastards, the lot of them, but it’s kept them alive this long, hasn’t it?)

Across from them Geoff is watching them – him – and Ryan looks back. Doesn’t know what to say, how to explain all of this. An old mistake that came back to bite him in the ass, had the potential to put the others at risk.

Geoff smiles, this tired thing that makes him look older than he is, and Ryan knows he won’t ask for an explanation. Won’t look for an apology, because that’s how this crew of his works. 

And even though Ryan’s had a long time to get used to it, there are times it still catches him by surprise. Reminds him there’s a reason he agreed to join the crew in the first place.

Maybe the rumors are right, that Ryan has gotten soft, complacent, running with a crew - but when he's got people like these watching his back, it doesn't seem like weakness.


End file.
